


Introduction

by DarkDreamsOfHannigram, theconsciousdarkness



Series: Lingerie [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, just a harmless little conversation, what could it possibly lead to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDreamsOfHannigram/pseuds/DarkDreamsOfHannigram, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theconsciousdarkness/pseuds/theconsciousdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A therapy session leads to a new technique...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Introduction

Their conversation had come to a point where Will no longer knew what to say. Frankly, he was tired of talking. Words seemed increasingly inadequate...it was like his aversion to eyes; words failed to really explain his feelings, while simultaneously giving more away than he wished. 

He’d been attempting to describe what it felt like to be so separate from his own feelings, when he so often had to inhabit those of others. Hannibal had asked him what he thought he could do to be more in touch with himself, to put his own thoughts ahead those of others. 

“I don’t know...it’s like my body isn’t part of me somehow. I’m so used to seeing myself as someone else.”

“You need a method to be more connected to your physical self. Our previous methods are no longer adequate?”

Will laughed, in spite of himself. “Previous methods” included Hannibal fucking him over a desk, blindfolding him while he was immobilized by a series of artistic and complex knots, even riding him until he came so hard he’d blacked out. They were _adequate_ , at least in getting him out of his own head for a while, but what he needed was not to escape, but to be more  _physically_  present.

After Will had pondered this in silence for a few moments, Hannibal rephrased the question: “What would it take to see yourself in a fresh light again?”

“It’s not a question of adequacy. I find your…methods…very helpful.” Will smirked, a dark look in his eye. “It’s more a question of the right tool for the--” He trailed off suddenly, Hannibal watching his gaze grow distant.

_I’m standing before a wooden workbench. My workbench. Dirty. Stained. The deep and jagged grooves of the table are smeared with something sinister. Evidence of my methods, my handiwork. I reach across and select something from the pegboard behind it. Everything so neatly arranged. I turn my head for a moment, a brief smile on my face when I hear my victim scream. No, I decide, this isn’t the one. I place it back on board and choose another. After all, I do need the right tool for the…_

“…right job.” Will finished his former thought and looked up. Hannibal watched as he came back to himself.

“I sometimes want you to…to take me out of my head,” he said a little unsteadily as the brief vision faded into memory. “And sometimes, it’s like I can’t stay in my head. I want you to put me back into it, back into my body.” Will shrugged, sighing, suddenly tired of explaining something that seemed too difficult to articulate. Hannibal’s question remained unanswered – the weight of it hovered in the air.

Will kept silent and stretched out his legs, letting his head fall back against the chair. It was afternoon, the office pleasantly warm. Long shadows stretched out across the floor from the late summer sun; he found himself watching them slide across the carpet. Time passed; Will wasn’t sure how much. There was the small creak of Hannibal’s chair, in the otherwise quiet office, and the soft sound of the leather shifting. Will realized his eyes were closed.

He opened them, a faint smile passing over Hannibal’s unreadable features. 

He had been studying Will’s face as he thought, and eventually he spoke.

“What would you say if I told you that you were beautiful, Will? And that I believe your problems could be overcome if you were able to see yourself as I do?”

“Why,” Will responded, “do you think that’s the sort of thing you’re likely to say?”

Hannibal held back a laugh. 

“This is my honest assessment. Contemporary Western culture obscures male beauty, and hides it from its bearer most of all. In your case, you lack connection to your physical self. You do not understand my attraction to you on this level.”

“I understand that you are attracted to who I am, the way that I think. I guess I always just assumed you operated on that level when you enjoyed me physically.” Will found it difficult to look at Hannibal while he said this.

“My attraction to you operates on  _all_  levels, Will. Visually, through taste and touch. To hear you in ecstasy...all of these excite and please me. I would have you know yourself as I experience you. Would you allow me to show you? I believe there is a way.”

“What way is that, Hannibal,” he asked, without expecting an answer.

His gaze passed briefly over the other man, but didn’t linger. Will looked toward the window, trying to muster the energy to keep speaking.

Independent of his physical beauty, and even in this mental state, Hannibal found him impossible to resist. He was wildly gifted in his methods, and unpredictable, a measure of extremes that ran the entire spectrum of emotion. Dark, dangerous, rude with a sarcastic wit barely hid behind an almost unyielding backdrop of anxiety. And then silent, and thoughtful, drawn into himself sometimes so deeply that he had to be coaxed out again with a soft caress and a gentle touch. And on other days, warm and joyful and passionate; matched only in depth to Hannibal’s own nature - a rare find in a world filled with people who barely scratched the surface of interesting. Will was all of these things, the sum of them making him beautiful beyond measure.

As if he could read the internal dialogue, Will turned and fixed his eyes on Hannibal’s chest.

“I’m just a man, Hannibal. Sometimes not a very good one,” he said carefully, “and most of the time, I’m not even myself, by design. I spend all of my time out there,” a tired gesture of his hand, “inside other people. So little time in here, in my own head, in my own body. I don’t even know where I belong.” Will realized, with a hint of amusement, that their breathing had synced as he’d been watching the other man - a little trick he never failed to fall for.

“I’m not sure I’m any of those things that you think I am,” he continued softly.

But then Will was laughing quietly, in spite of himself, when he saw the small, knowing smile grace Hannibal’s features.

Hannibal continued to watch Will as he sat across from him. He didn’t want to reveal anything right away regarding his plans, which began to unfold in his mind like a blossom in spring. 

“I believe I will end our conversation here, Will. I am quite sure you will find my methods both enjoyable and novel. And, when we have completed this course of treatment, you will see that you are much more than ‘just a man’ in my eyes.”

Will noticed that Hannibal’s smile had become more obvious than he usually let it, and even saw a flash of teeth. He wasn’t sure if it was out of affection or something more predatory...

**Author's Note:**

> Any guesses? You'll find out soon!


End file.
